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82 I know not yet the Baron’s intentions: but your ufferings demand immediate remedy: and one way only is left—Come with me to the catle. Do not tart—you hall be concealed in my apartments till you are called for.

I go to the Baron’s?—No.

Go for the ake of your on—reflect, that his fortunes may depend upon your preence.

And he is the only branch on which my hope till blooms: the ret are withered.—I will forget my wrongs as a woman, if the Baron will atone to the mother—he hall have the woman’s pardon, if he will merit the mother’s thanks—[after a truggle]—I will go to the catle—for the ake of my Frederick, go even to his father. But where are my good hot and hotes, that I may take leave, and thank them for their kindnes?

[taking up the pure which Agatha had thrown down]. Here, good friend! Good woman!

Yes, yes, here am I.

Good people, I will take your guet with me. You have acted an honet part, and therefore receive this reward for your trouble. [He offers the pure to the Cottager, who puts it by, and turns away]. -